


Daredevil Season 03 E07

by VeryMildSuperPowers



Series: Season 3 [8]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7641484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeryMildSuperPowers/pseuds/VeryMildSuperPowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Date night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daredevil Season 03 E07

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: VIOLENCE, SEX, DRUGS, ROCK ‘N’ ROLL
> 
> Do not read this if you are easily offended. I am not kidding, if you’re gonna be a pansy about head jobs and smokin’ some drugs, go no further.
> 
> NO PLOT, JUST THE ROUGH STUFF. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
> 
> Actually, it’s not hard core at all, but it might be considered a little bit racy!
> 
> If you so desire, you be the judge.
> 
> (drum roll)…

DDS03E07

Karen realized she was in the grip of a serious Matt addiction. They had a well-established bond, complete trust, total commitment to each other. And it turned her on. She found that her body reacted to the presence of his every time they were together, and she had to rein it in or she’d be fucking him six times a day. He’d be dead in a week.

They were supposed to be getting ready to go out to dinner, but she hadn’t seen him all day. She stood in the doorway of the bedroom as he peeled off his shirt and threw it into the laundry basket, and kicked his shoes off. He started to unbuckle his belt, but he sensed her heat and felt her watching him, and turned towards her.

“Don’t stop on my account.” she said.

Matt grinned. He was pretty sure he knew what was coming next. Sometimes he really didn’t need to do much, he just had to be there.

She unzipped her dress and let it fall, stepping over it with her high heels still on.

Socks off, his pants hit the floor moments later.

She strutted over to him. He faced her, with the backs of his legs resting against the bed. Yep, she had the billy club with her. Hands behind his back. Restrained. 

He took deep breaths, all his senses on alert. He was not in control, of his body or the situation. And God, it was exciting. He bared his teeth.

Her lips were on his flesh, and every time she touched him was like the first time. She kissed a trail down his chest, his stomach, down until she was on her knees with him in her mouth. He groaned in absolute pleasure. Her hands caressed him, and when he gasped and staggered to keep his footing she pushed him back onto the bed. 

She hovered over him like a predator, checking to see where he was vulnerable, selecting her precise targets for attack. Tracing every single scar with the tip of her tongue. He was defenseless. There was nothing he could do but succumb to her assault.

His heart was racing, every nerve ending in his body was ready to fire. Reaching a plateau of altered consciousness, open to the universe, the light, the darkness, the suffocating beauty of it all. So close, and so far away.

His body, the vessel of his soul, reaching for hers, joining with hers as she mounted him. His hips thrusting into her as they drew ever closer. She had wanted this. She had felt an undeniable need, and he was hers to take. 

She was completely uninhibited, free to express her darkest desires. He was her possession, her caged beast, striving for release. This was their arena. 

He was overcome with the exquisite rapture. His calls spurred her on, grinding into him with all her might. She cried out as she achieved her victory, her prey weak and exhausted, her body satisfied.

She really enjoyed fucking him.

 

After showering and dressing, they left for the restaurant. It was walking distance, and they were on time, so no need to hurry. One of her fears had always been that telling him her darkest secret would make her feel exposed and scared and yet conversely it had empowered her.

She had changed her mind about what to wear, and had on her slinkiest, sexiest dress. A reflection of her mood. She’d bought it impulsively and hadn’t worn it yet.

“How did you manage to get a booking here for tonight? I thought this place had a week’s wait.” she asked.

“It does. I booked it a week ago.” They were seated at a booth at the far end, the wall beside them offering some privacy. Four other tables were taken, all out of sight. They ordered and handed the menus back to the waitress. 

Karen sat back and slipped a shoe off. Sliding her foot up his leg, his knee, ending up resting between his thighs. Gently rubbing him, feeling him harden.

Matt sat back and relaxed his legs, allowing her easy access. No use fighting it, she was determined to have her way. Again. No complaints from him.

He suddenly tensed up. “Uh, Karen, I, uh….”

Oh, shit. She withdrew her foot. How close was he? She hadn’t meant to…

He laughed. “Gotcha!”

She sighed in relief, laughing with him. That could have been messy.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “What has gotten into you? You’ve fucked my brains out once already, and now you want more?” While she was distracted by his question, he was deftly removing one of his shoes.

“I don’t know. I’m in a really good mood, and just decided to go with it.”

He had a sock off by now too. He sat back again, and reached his foot out to her. Time to repay the favor. Touching her leg, gliding up and down, then slowly making his way up, between her knees, seeking permission and gaining it, no resistance on her part.

“What exactly do you think you’re going to do?” she asked softly, knowing he alone could hear her.

His foot traveled even higher, and she briefly clenched with surprise, his boldness unexpected.

“Just let me try. You never know, this might be your favorite place to come.” She laughed at his choice of words. It seemed he was up for a challenge. She shifted her hips forward, her thighs parted. He cautiously delved in.

Bingo. He was right on target. Who knew he could do that? She could let this go on for a while, it would feel nice, but it wouldn’t go all the way. Surely not. And yet…

It was less than an hour since they had been in bed together. Her body was still humming, eager for the next round. She was drifting away, losing awareness of her surroundings, trusting him to keep watch. The coffee shop all over again. 

She had started this as a tease, a promise for more later that night, but he had hijacked her plans and now he was in charge. He would be so hard right now. She thought of him inside her as he touched her. It took her over the edge and she reached her crescendo, fighting to keep silent, breathing heavily, calling his name softly, heard only by him. She held his foot tightly against her, waiting for the waves of pleasure to recede, and once they had rippled to calmness she released him.

She had called his name. He struggled to stay in control. To be able to do this to her, for them both to be willing to risk it was a revelation to him. This was reckless, and yet he had not considered stopping. He tried to calm his mind, tried to distract himself, urging his body to relax. But she had called his name, and he could hear her heart pounding, and he could smell her aroma, and he could not ignore those signals. The hunger was intense.

She could see this could not wait. He was not teasing this time, he was ready right now, moments away. She checked their surroundings. All clear. Under the table she went.

Undoing his belt and unzipping his fly, she released him and once again took him in her mouth. This time, not as part of the prelude, but as the finale. Licking him, sucking him until he gripped the sides of his seat in a shuddering orgasm. He laughed out aloud in delight and relief, still a little disbelieving that they were doing this here. As he regained his composure she sat back up. He tucked in and zipped up.

“I, uh, you were, uh…..” 

As calmly as she could, her voice laden with lust, she said “That’s round two.“

“Who’s…. winning?”

“Even score. Round three is the decider.”

The waitress delivered their meals.

 

They had eaten slowly, taking the time to savor every mouthful of food. It all tasted so delicious, both of them experiencing a new appreciation of the flavors and textures of their meals. They shared a dessert, but declined coffee. Pausing in the doorway as they exited they faced each other, laughing about what they had gotten away with. Instead of walking straight home they detoured their way, taking an extra hour. He would tell her about incidents he had been involved in as they walked along, she would describe her impressions of the city. Holding each other, stealing kisses when they could.

Back in his apartment, he showered first as she changed the bedsheets. While she took her turn he selected a bottle of wine, something a little more sophisticated than the cheap stuff. Karen had chosen to leave the lights off, the glow of the city outside providing sufficient illumination.

This was a marathon event, not a sprint. Pacing was important. Tonight was all about taking the fullest advantage of their time together. 

Red wine, two glasses and a small cheese plate on the coffee table. They sat on the floor facing each other, his back against the couch leg, hers against the chair. Their naked legs rested intertwined, they sat in comfortable silence. She gazed upon him, wallowing in both love and lust. His form sculptured and desirable, her heart completely his. 

He had checked out the whole apartment, they were safely alone. He could now let himself fully focus on her. Her news had surprised him, but since last year, when her world fell apart, he had known that something deeply significant had happened. He had just never put it together with James Wesley’s disappearance.

She had killed a man. Taken his life. Ended his chance at redemption. Had his soul been damned for his crimes, or forgiven? And how would God treat a soul such as hers, pure and loving, forced into an act of such violence? He did not like to think that he questioned God’s plan, but he certainly did not understand it.

He was grateful she had shared her burden with him. Now that the words had been spoken she was no longer oppressed by her secret. On the night that she had told him he had observed her body chemistry changing as she relaxed after her tears had stopped. Like she had been re-set. He considered himself to be in no position to judge her. Wesley had threatened everyone she knew, and was fully capable of having it done. If she was really over it, he was prepared to put it behind them. However, he did want to be sure she was okay.

But not tonight. Why spoil the mood? If she raised the issue, fine. If not, the night was theirs.

“Red Alert!” 

Shit. Except for his phone. 

He answered without saying a word, just listening to the address Frank said, then hung up. 

With a sigh, he leaned in and kissed her. This was all they could have for now, so they made the most of it. Regretfully breaking the kiss he headed over to the cupboard. He unlocked it and took out the red suit Melvyn had made for him, and went into the bedroom to put it on. 

“Why the red suit?” Karen asked, standing up.

“Keeping this one off the books. Shouldn’t take long.” A lingering kiss good-bye, and he was up the stairs and out the door. 

Crossing rooftops, he bolted to the address and assessed the layout. The lone guard was easily dealt with, distracted by a thrown pebble and punched into submission. Matt disarmed him, disassembled and discarded the weapon. One step closer to getting back to Karen.

There were two more armed guards just inside. He lured the first outside by opening the door slightly, letting it knock against the door frame, causing him to investigate. Matt snatched him up, headbutted him and threw him to the ground. The next guard came running, but Matt avoided his attack and kneed him in the stomach, winding him, then gave him a roundhouse kick to the thigh. Deadleg. He rolled on the floor gasping for breath, a swift uppercut to the chin knocking him unconscious.

Matt quietly closed the door behind him, creeping down the hall. He surprised another guard coming around a corner, looping his arm into a shoulder-lock, three quick jabs to the face and he was down. Suddenly four of them rushed him, hurling him against the wall in a free-for-all frenzy, punches and kicks coming from everywhere. Matt sustained a few blows before regrouping, launching into an attack they could not avoid. As a punch came towards him he ducked under it and shoulder-barged the man into two of his companions, knocking them to the floor. As they scrabbled to regain their footing Matt targeted the only one still standing, tackling him to the ground, leaping to his feet and kicking him in the head. Down for the count. The other three were back on their feet, the closest copping a spinning jump kick to the chest once again flooring him. The other two leaped forward, each grabbing one of Matt’s arms, but he responded by stepping back and knocking them into each other. Their grips loosened, giving Matt the opportunity to kick one just above the knee, grinding muscle against bone. He screamed in pain as he fell, as Matt elbowed the last one in the throat, punched him in the face, picked him up and threw him on top of the man whimpering on the floor.

Sorted. Could he get back to Karen now?

Apparently not. There were still five people within close proximity. Hopefully one of them was Frank. 

Tilting and turning his head, he listened carefully. Frank was still conducting his own operations, independent from his work with T’Challa. His life’s mission was to hunt down as many criminals as he could, taking no prisoners. He usually didn’t need any help, but he knew Matt had his back when he needed him, when things went wrong. Like tonight.

Skulking around, Matt located another guard. He approached him silently from behind, slipping him into a choke-hold using his billy-club. A brief struggle, and once he stopped moving Matt placed him on the floor. That only left the four people in the room behind this door. Two had guns, one had a knife, the other was unarmed. Frank.

Right. Let’s get this done.

He burst through the door, tucking into a roll and springing to his feet before they had a chance to respond. As they fumbled for their weapons a bruised and beaten Frank finally saw the opportunity to strike back, they were all focusing on Matt now, giving him the chance to get back into it. He lunged at the closest, wrapping him in a bear-hug and lifting him off his feet. The man struggled, but Frank threw him into the wall and started beating him, kicking his fallen gun away. Punch after punch until he had blacked out. Frank turned to re-enter the fray, but was tackled from the side.

One of them had raised his gun as Matt approached, but Matt spun around and grabbed the wrist holding the weapon, arm-locking him. He twisted it and broke it with a loud snap. As the man screamed Matt punched him in the face. Just to shut him up, really.

As Frank wrestled with the last one, Matt grabbed the man from behind, wrenching the knife from his grip. Opening him up for Frank to deliver the final blow. Body shot, body shot, head shot, and it was all over.

They both stood there, blood dripping from their faces and their fists. 

“That’s everyone.” said Matt. “We good to go?”

“Sure.” responded Frank. “Thanks. Coffee?”

Matt shook his head. “Karen’s waiting. Date night.”

Frank smiled and indicated Matt should go. “See you ‘round, Red.”

Matt grinned. As he left, one of the guards made a feeble attempt to rise, earning him a parting crack to the head.

Finally. Done. Sorted.

Now, back to Karen.

He wished he had he stealth suit on. He’d like to get her flowers again, but couldn’t risk it. And hopefully fucking Spiderman was nowhere around. He headed for home, fastest route.

 

While he was out, she put on some music. No-one to dance with, but that was fine. She didn’t need anyone else.

Dancing here was far better than going out to a club. Here she could be totally free. Dancing like no-one was watching, because no-one was. The flickering lights outside changed colors as she moved around, swaying and grooving to the beat. Mostly ‘80s and ‘90s tracks, not dance music as such, just songs that were great to dance to. Real drummers, real guitarists, real musicians. 

Earlier that day she had been going through her boxes and she had found something she’d forgotten about. Would it still be good? She’d sniffed along it’s length. Smelled right. Yes! She put it away again.

Digging it back out, she’d be in trouble, she knew. No way would he approve. Okay then, best have it now before he got back. She fished through her handbag for a cigarette lighter. Party time!

On the roof, he could feel the music under his feet. He paused, and honed in on her. She was dancing, unaware of his observation. As much as he wanted to be holding her, this was fun too. Thinking about before, the bedroom, the restaurant. He stayed there until his dick got uncomfortably hard, and went inside.

As he took her in his arms, he sniffed the air, directing his focus to her.

“Karen, did you…?”

“Yep.” she said boldly, stifling a giggle.

“Where is it?”

“Gone. In me.”

“All gone? You didn’t save me any?”

Her jaw dropped open in surprise. He had to be kidding.

“No way. There is no way you would go for it.”

He smirked, slapped her on the butt, and headed for the bathroom. When he came back out he showed her what was in his hand.

“Three each. Fair enough?”

“You should really have four. I’ve had one already.”

“Fair point.” He put them down on the coffee table and went back into the bathroom.

She was still stunned. Really? What the fuck?

Well, now things were gonna get awesome.

But, hang on. “Hey, Matt? Are you okay? Not hurt or anything?”

“All good. Nothing I haven’t had before.” He disrobed.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Mostly not my blood.” Shower on.

Picking one up of the table, she lit it and drew back. And started dancing again.

“Are you tired?”

“No.” He lathered up his face.

“Your arms good?”

“Yep.” Carefully shaving, checking he hadn’t missed any.

“Hands and fingers okay?”

“Yes.” Checks out. She wouldn’t want whisker burn on her thighs.

“Cool.” She swayed across the floor.

He turned the shower off. Stepping out, he grabbed a towel and dried off. He leaned against the vanity, resting for a moment, toying with an unlit joint. Inhaling deeply, he could distinguish many scents and odors, the chlorine in the water, the soap, the smoke that had drifted in, and her. Her sweat, her skin, the emanations from between her thighs. He placed the joint between his lips, flicking the lighter, drawing in deeply.

So, where was the best place to do this?

Not the bedroom. Somewhere different. Kitchen table? Not really sturdy enough. The coffee table was too hard, and the chairs too small. So, the couch. Or the floor. Or the couch then the floor. With some cushions.

With the location more or less worked out, next was his mission plan. If his previous experience with women in this state was anything to go by, she would be having a really great time tonight.

He should be drained by the night’s prior activities, but her drive was contagious and he too was ready for more. Victorious in battle, and prepared for round three. One more drag, and time to get started.

She was dancing with her back to him, and he approached her slowly. When his hands caressed her hips, guiding her backwards into him, she leaned forward a little to accommodate him, grasping him between her thighs. Tied together, he lead her back until his butt was resting on the couch arm. From this lower position he slowly slipped inside her. 

She was still dancing.

This was an incredible feeling. He was deep inside her as she moved to the beat. She reached for his hands, and their fingers interlaced as the music carried her away.

As glorious as this was, this wasn’t his plan for tonight. He sat up and crossed his arms with hers in front of her, and nuzzled the back of her head. They stood up together, but then he pulled back, withdrawing. Still in the game.

She turned to face him, and sunk to the floor, her legs splayed. An invitation he accepted immediately. Sitting back on his heels, he picked up her leg, supporting her ankle. He worked the pressure points in her foot, and she stretched and wriggled, thoroughly enjoying the sensations he was creating. He kissed his way up her leg, over her knee, along her thigh, teasing his way ever closer. 

As the music played, he buried his face in between her legs. No need to keep quiet now. He was taking her away, and she wanted all the world to know. Immersed in complete pleasure, his mouth, his tongue, his fingers inside her. Seeking the exquisite joy awaiting her, quivering with near-completion. 

He did not stop. The fire within her was fully ablaze, and this time he was not going to be gentle. She could take it. Hell, she wanted it. And he knew exactly what to do.

His abilities gave him an edge, guiding him precisely. Never before had he been so appreciative of his skills. He had hit the right combination, his timing and pressure perfect. She screamed.

But still, he did not stop. He knew she could sustain it, as long as he kept it going. She was completely lost, reaching into an expanse he never could. But he could keep her there.

Her breathing had become erratic, she was forgetting about her corporeality. Time to finish her off and bring her back.

A subtle shift in location, a variance in pressure, and she could take no more. Squealing and rolling away from him she clutched her thighs together tightly, riding the waves of bliss. 

Oh, my freaking God. He deserved a medal for that one. No, a trophy at least. Matt Murdock, Grand Champion of Fuckfest 2016. 

At this point, she was ready to concede defeat. Nothing she could do to him could compare to what he had just done to her. She’d give it her best shot, but, realistically, what were her chances? 

She sat up and faced him. He was sitting on the floor, awaiting her recovery with a lit j. She hadn’t even noticed.

“You have to help me out here, Matt. What do you want me to do?”

He passed it to her. Toke. 

He crawled over and lay on his back in front of her, taking her hand and placing it where he wanted it.

“Go for it.” was all he said.

Excellent. This would be awesome. She loved playing with his cock. She sat astride him, not mounting him, but pressing him fully against her. As she stroked him, also touching herself. He was gonna love this. 

He held her hips, steadying her. He knew what was going on. She was still fully charged. This was the best possible outcome, as far as he was concerned. He had wanted her to have the time of her life, and he was damn sure they were on their way there. 

She had pulled back slightly, enough so she could reach down, cupping him, exploring, tenderly applying pressure in just the right places. His imminence excited her, and she once again sought to join him. Resuming her original position, stroke after stroke taking them both over the edge in a blaze of glory.

She fell back, and landed beside him on the floor.

“Four-three. I won.” she said.

“Sure.” he said. “But that last one was technically an own-goal.”

They burst out laughing.

After cleaning up, they headed for the bedroom, grabbing one more each from the coffee table. Fresh, clean sheets awaited them. They sat at the foot of the bed, passing one between them. The dinner had been great, and the sex had been fantastic. Kudos all ‘round.

Date night had been a success. They’d have to do this again.

Matt had been so keen to get back to Karen he hadn’t asked Frank what his plans were with the battered and bleeding men scattered around. With Matt gone, Frank could get what he wanted from one of them his way. He waited for the first to awaken, and questioned him. When the man did not tell him what he wanted, Frank brutally killed one of his companions. He used a weapon with precision and skill to facilitate the man’s death. The next time, he used his bare hands and it was totally gross. So gross I can’t even describe it. After two more deaths, his captive finally caved in, giving Frank the information he wanted. Didn’t do him much good, though. He’s dead now too. At least Frank was happy with how things had worked out. He left the scene dramatically, in slow motion.

When Brett arrived he sighed. More blood, more death. But no more paperwork. He knew whose handiwork this was, and his instructions were that Castle was hands off. He called the Punisher clean-up team.


End file.
